


Squall

by CavalierConvoy



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: 1986 Boston Red Sox, Bad Weather, Fluff, Gen, Huddling For Warmth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:41:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23758546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavalierConvoy/pseuds/CavalierConvoy
Summary: Prowl and Trailbreaker are surprised by a snowstorm, and Prowl, not fitted to inclement weather, starts freezing up.One from the Tumblr Vault, circa 2015, a request by an anonymous ask, and posted for Prowl Week 2020.
Relationships: Prowl/Trailbreaker
Kudos: 25





	Squall

**Author's Note:**

> As this is G1, I went by the names of the towns and places used in 1985. Nunavut became its own province in 1999. I focused on keeping it as vague as possible.

Beachcomber and Hound were prattling off about the local wildlife. 

_Unimportant,_ Prowl kept his disapproval to himself. The native flora and fauna were not on the mission itinerary. What mattered was the deposit of raw energon located less than twenty kilometres southwest from Coppermine, detected by, of all things, one of Beachcomber’s unauthorised excursions.

Rather than risk mounting a full envoy and thus alerting the Decepticons of their plans, Prowl weighed the options and opted for a more covert operation of search and, if possible, retrieval. 

Hound provided the understanding on the terrain; Beachcomber, the geology. Trailbreaker, Prowl calculated, would provide ample backup for both communications and, if needed, support should they require cavern exploration.

“Likely the energon is either on the surface or in the permafrost,” Beachcomber had corrected by the time they had reached the vicinity of Coppermine. “Tundra hills generally have little to no cavern systems that would constitute enough room for energon crystal deposits to form.”

“And the ‘Cons would have found them had they been on the surface, yeah?” Trailbreaker questioned; Prowl winced at his weak attempt to enter the conversation.

“Not necessarily,” Hound corrected patiently. “Kugluktuk — that’s what the indigenous people call Coppermine — receives an average of one-hundred and eighty-two centimetres of snowfall an Earth year. We could be dealing with a simple case of out of sight, out of mind; we already know that water vapour can interfere with our sensors, and likely it’s making a mess out of the 'Cons as well.”

“Please maintain concentration on our mission,” Prowl reminded. “It will only be a matter of time before Megatron catches wind of our operation.”

“You know, Prowl,” Trailbreaker pulled up alongside the first-responder, “maybe we should have put some heavier-duty rear tyres on you. Maybe some weight in your bonnet, to boot.” He chuckled. “Get it? Bonnet? Boot?”

“I’m perfectly capable of handling myself in inclement weather,” Prowl retorted, “and while I have considered the meteorological fluctuations for the next decacycle, there’s little to be concerned about.” A pause. “But your concern is noted.” A pause as Prowl counted two less Autobots in their convoy. “Hound, Beachcomber, why have you broken formation?”

“Sorry, Prowl,” Beachcomber apologised, hushed, over the radio, “Hound and I are observing nature in action.”

“ _Vulpes lagopus_ : the arctic fox,” Hound explained, equally quiet. “The species has a unique method of 'homing’ in on their prey under the snow cover and — well, Prowl, you should come and see this, you’ll appreciate the elegance and precision in its method.”

“We have an assignment!” Prowl hissed. “We can look at wildlife after we complete our objective!”

“Yanno, Prowl,” Trailbreaker chuckled, “I bet you and I can handle the mission and let our naturalists do the exploration part of our overall mission, right? The one about exploring this planet and its inhabitants? That was Prime’s first order, seconded by defending it from Megajerk and his cronies.”

A blast of hot air puffed from his vents. The specialist did have a point. Recalculating his odds in the success in the mission, barring no Decepticon presence — neither he nor Trailbreaker had picked up any enemy communique in the vicinity — he could not foresee any trouble. “Fine. Hound, Beachcomber, stay within three kilometres of our position. I want you available should we require your expertise.”

“As well you should!” Beachcomber reminded, “we should take care in extracting the energon as to not disturb the natural order of the ecosystem; if anything, perhaps we should consider a silica spray to make the energon inert.”

“We need the energon, Beachcomber!” Prowl countered.

“And by removing it, if it risks the ecosystem, we’d be no better than the Decepticons,” the geologist, in his infinite patience, retorted. “We are to protect this planet and its denizens. That is our primary directive while we reside here, is it not?”

“Agreed,” Hound sounded off.

“They have a point, Prowl,” Trailbreaker reminded. “I mean, if we can, we’ll extract it, but if it destroys the land, then Beachcomber’s right.”

“You know Prime would agree with us,” Hound reminded.

“Yes. I know he would. This…changes my plan.” Prowl killed the transmission, still taking point on the frozen dirt road.

“Hey, Prowl, don’t take it too hard!” Trailbreaker brought up the rear, his all-season tyres traversing the path with ease; Prowl, even with the studded tyres Wheeljack had fitted before their mission, was dangerously close to fishtailing. “Beachcomber just brought up a factor we’re not used to seeing, that’s all.”

“We’re low on energon as it is, Trailbreaker,” Prowl reminded, “and as much as we can collect from renewable resources, it’s not enough. We can’t stress the humans’ own supply of fossil fuels any more than we already do, so we have to rely on naturally forming deposits. To willingly destroy our lifeblood — !”

“Hey, Prowl. We’ll be fine. We got enough to make it through. Sure, we can’t stockpile like we’d like to, but hey, we still have it better than we did back home. So, where are we heading?”

“A waterfall system the indigenous people call Kugluk, or Bloody Falls by settlers,” Prowl stated. “In approximately twenty cycles, we’ll have to go by foot to reach the site.”

*

Prowl and Trailbreaker had found the site as per Beachcomber’s original report, though Prowl’s sensors picked up the energon deposit a little under a klick south. After consulting with the local wardens of their intentions — Prowl explained the dangers of allowing the raw energon to remain on the land, whether due to radiation if it were to activate or by Decepticon attack; the wardens countered with Beachcomber’s warning: if it harmed the land, then render it inert.

It had been Trailbreaker to be quick to agree, and with that, they received the warden’s blessing to traipse to the site. 

“Was that necessary?” Prowl demanded. 

“Well, we are in their land, Prowl,” Trailbreaker reminded. “We should respect their rules. Warden Jacques said they’d want to make certain the energon doesn’t ruin their ecosystem just as much as we do.”

"Just a head’s up,” Beachcomber hailed, “We’re observing erratic patterns in local fauna behaviour. We might want to scuttle the mission and meet back at Coppermine.”

“What are you talking about?” Prowl groused as Trailbreaker gave the wardens a wave and a smile before regrouping with his mission commander. 

“They’re burrowing and searching cover, Prowl,” Hound explained. “That’s a sign of poor weather coming.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the white and black Autobot chided, checking his datapad, “meteorological readings all read clear: barometric levels are holding steady at — ”

“Prowl!” Trailbreaker shouted, before gesturing to the humans heading back to their vehicle. “Get for cover!" 

"Now is not the time to read too much into the antics of the native — ” the barometric reading on his datapad dipped fast, and Prowl looked up to where Trailbreaker was indicating, a solid squall line. The larger mech did not waste time: once he was certain the wardens had returned to their truck, he tackled his superior officer, pinning him against the face of the lichen-laden escarpment just as a fierce, arctic blast tore through their joints. A wall of heavy snow obscured everything in whiteout conditions, fogging up their optic sensors, their audio receptors deafened by the wind.

“What are you doing?!” Prowl shouted, his order suddenly thunderous as Trailbreaker engaged his forcefield around them.

“You’re not outfitted for this weather,” Trailbreaker admitted; in this proximity, Prowl could hear the larger mech’s radio scanning both human and Autobot frequencies. “Give it a moment — should pass quickly. Hound! Beachcomber! Do you copy?”

“Sounds like you found shelter too,” Hound answered amid howling wind. “Beachcomber’s new buddies led us to a cavern; it’s snug, but safe. How’re you holding up?”

“A-OK, good buddy! Me and Prowl’s riding it out; we’ll meet you back at Coppermine after the storm breaks.”

Prowl scowled. He had lost control of the situation. The blasted weather patterns on this planet were far harder to figure out than Cybertron’s. The mission would be scuttled because he could not have foreseen this squall.

Ending the transmission, Trailbreaker addressed the mission commander’s dour expression. “Cheer up, Prowl! Things could be worse!”

Rumbling overhead drowned out the wind.

“Thunder,” Trailbreaker guessed as the ground shook around them.

The smaller mech gave the specialist a unamused glare, just as Trailbreaker gasped, his forcefield contracting. Thin and strained, the black mech hissed, “Not thunder. We’re good. We’re still good. Hound, you copy? We may have a bit of a bind.”

“A 'bit’ of a bind?” Prowl snapped.

“Hound? Beachcomber? Either of you copy?” Trailbreaker’s jovial smile fell. “Well. They might be out of range. At least they know where we are.”

“We’re a kilometer off course! If the entire area was covered — ” The cold was creeping into his joints, to where the servos in his jaw were chattering.

“Prowl, save your strength! The wardens are in their vehicle; they’ll head back into town and radio Hound to where we are. Relax. We’re okay.”

“At the rate you’re burning fuel for your forcefield — ”

“No worries, Prowl. I’ve got it covered. Have some faith in me, will you? I’ve got enough fuel allotted for ten more cycles, then I’ll put up a panic bubble, which will give us another megacycle — ”

“Half a megacycle,” Prowl corrected; the sensors in his doors were icing over, painful over his neural pathways; he was now chattering. 

“How you holding up there, Prowl?” Trailbreaker changed the topic, flashing a reassuring smile. “Crank your defrosters up to max; that’ll help with the chill.”

“That will brrr-burn through my reserves. I’m f-f-f-fine.”

“I got you covered; get yourself nice and toasty.” Kneeling, Trailbreaker scooped around the snow at their feet, clearing out a depression and packing it down, before peeling away lichen from the rock face.

“What are you d-d-doing?”

“We don’t have enough to build a full shelter, but at least we can get those doors of yours taken care of. Those ice up first, yeah? Sit against the rock face until I get this packed down. Curl up around, get your heater on. We’ll get you nice and toasty while we wait for Hound to get back.”

“That is c-c-c-completely unnecessary!” A pause. “Trailbr-br-breaker, did you engage your panic bubble already?”

“Well, couldn’t do this without my hands, could I?” he waved both his right hand and his empurataed left barrel before resuming his work. “No worries, Prowl, first things first is keep you warm. I’m tough; cold doesn’t bother me too much.” As for emphasis, he pulled a flask from his hip, took a swig, and passed it to Prowl. “Here. I know you don’t have much of a taste for it, but at least it’ll warm your fuel lines.”

“You know th-th-that’s just a placebo.” Still, hand shaking, Prowl accepted the flask and took a tentative sip before gasping.

“And it’ll keep your mind off of how cold it is,” Trailbreaker grinned, beckoning the smaller mech forward. “Okay, c'here. Lay down with your doors in the depression. Once you do that, we’ll get another pack of lichen and some snow, and that’ll keep them from icing over.”

“Unnecessary!” Prowl repeated.

Trailbreaker crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t make me carry you.”

Defeated, the white and black Praxian rolled onto his hands and knees, crawling to the depressions Trailbreaker had made. The larger mech eased Prowl into a sitting position, lining up his doors and, supporting his head, guided him onto his back. 

“This is w-w-worse!” Prowl protested with a chatter.

“Not done yet,” Trailbreaker patted his shoulder, then proceeded to lay down the lichen first, before packing more snow atop. Sitting next to the now prone officer, he questioned, “Okay, comfortable?”

“No…" 

"How’re the doors?”

“They’re — ” Prowl sighed; the pain had ebbed, for the most part, and feeling was returning to the sensors. “Adequate.”

“Good. I’ve been pinging Hound since this happened, and the wardens knew where we were before this all happened, so they’ll find us shortly. So, now that we got all that covered and your extremities protected, let’s see about getting your core back up to temp, shall we?” With a groan, Trailbreaker eased back, onto his left side, and snuggled up against Prowl, draping an arm over his midsection.

“What — what are you doing?!”

“Gonna bring in the field close, get some warmth radiating; it’ll — ” Trailbreaker’s optics flickered, “it’ll conserve some energy, you know. Good thing my engine’s hot; just in case I go into recharge, you know.”

While Cybertronians were not prone to carbon monoxide poisoning, it still wasn’t a good idea to fall asleep trapped. “Trailbreaker, I told you not to overexert yourself — ”

“Blah blah blah. You probably weighed the odds six ways to Luna One and figured you to be the expendable one, yeah? We’ll, nuts to that.”

“Trailbreaker — ”

“Shh. Never tell me the odds. Just…if you’re going to talk, talk about…oh! How about sports? Baseball’s all about statistics. Talk to me about the odds that the Red Sox are gonna make it this year to the World Series…”

While he would openly deny being interested in human sports, Trailbreaker had a point. “Third baseman Wade Boggs is projected to be their all-star batter this year, with an average of point-three-two-eight at bat…”

“How about Oil Can Boyd?” Trailbreaker muttered, his voice faraway.

“It’s the up and coming Roger Clemens that we should be keeping an optic on for their pitching roster — Trailbreaker?

"Trailbreaker?”

*

Waking up in an unfamiliar garage, Trailbreaker attempted to sit up, only to be held back by Ratchet’s firm grip.

“Easy now, you were at critical fuel levels when Hound and Beachcomber found you,” Ratchet explained. “It’s a good thing they made it back to town to radio for help, and they met up with Wardens Yeager and Jacques to pinpoint your location.” The medic made a sweeping gesture. “Skyfire got us here as soon when we got Hound’s message. Good thing you did your homework and checked in with the warden station, or else we may have never found you.”

“Is Prowl okay?” Trailbreaker questioned, voice cracking.

“Soon as I gave him the clear, he was back at work,” Ratchet explained. “But not before I made certain he had proper winter gear.”

“Oh.” Trailbreaker frowned. “I…kinda hoped he’d — ”

“Check on you? You know Prowl; he doesn’t like people to know he cares. You saved him out there. And he knows that. Now, just rest up and don’t worry about Prowl.”

“But — ”

“But nothing. He’s got Beachcomber, Brawn, and Ironhide out there with him. The only thing that’s hurt is his pride.”

“Okay.” Leaning back, the large mech stared at the corrugated ceiling; somewhere behind him, he heard Hound and Sparkplug chatting in another room. 

“He did,” Ratchet admitted, “check up on you before he left. Wanted to make certain you’ll be all right.”

To this, Trailbreaker nodded.

And smiled. “I’m glad he’s fine,” he stated, falling back into recharge.


End file.
